Zen and the Art of Vampires (6 page)

“But . . . you know where we're going,” Marta said, her eyes moving between her husband and me. She looked strained, somehow stretched, as if she was about to tear apart into a thousand wispy bits.

“All right, then, I'll find out where you're going, and then we'll work on how to get you there,” I said, trying to sound confident and calm. “Have you two been wandering around the town the whole time?”

They both stared silently at me.

“Let me put it this way—what's the last thing you remember?” I asked.

“We were on the ship,” Karl said.

“Yes, I got that part. But what happened to the ship?”

The pair glanced at each other.

“I don't understand,” Karl said. “We were on the ship. The old lady said to look for you, and we found you.”

Clearly the trauma of their deaths had left them drifting, both figuratively and literally, and they didn't remember the transition between life and the afterlife.

I made a little face to myself at how quickly I'd become accustomed to the idea of ghosts and an afterlife, but I had to admit, the evidence was even now staring hopefully at me. “OK. We'll just let that go. While I'm looking, why don't you two go down to the café on the main square. I'll meet you there when I find out where it is you're supposed to go.”

“Café?” Marta asked.

I gave them directions on where to find it, and reiterated that I would meet them there. “I've got a few things to take care of first,” I said, straightening slowly as I verified that the street was clear of Mattias. “But just as soon as I can, I'll try to find someone who knows what's going on. Sound good?”

“And if the other should come, the Ilargi?” Karl asked, clearly worried. “He will steal our souls!”

“That's not good.” I made a little face as I thought. “Um . . . run away?”

That evidently satisfied them, because they nodded and thanked me, drifting off down the street until they disappeared into the night. I noted with interest that the second they disappeared from my view, the glowing silver moon dangling from my wrist changed back into a moonstone hanging on a silk cord.

“Too strange,” I told the bookmark. “But right at this moment, I'm not going to try to figure you out. I've got to get myself out of this predicament with Mattias, and much as I'd like to hunker down, staying in one spot might be asking for trouble if he comes back to look closely at the church. Better get a move on now Pia.”

There's really no use talking to yourself if you're not going to listen to your own advice, so I did as I was told, and crawled up the narrow stairs to the street, glancing around quickly to make sure the woman in charge of the cult hadn't been following us, before heading off in the direction opposite the one Mattias had taken.

The threat of a stitch in my side blossomed to full life a couple of blocks later, leaving me clutching my side and limping (for some reason, limping made me feel better). Holding the paperback books and my bag made it difficult to try to ease the pain in my side, so I dumped the books into the nearest trash can, hesitating for a moment over the pretty moonstone bookmark. Part of me wanted to dump it, as well, and wash my hands of anything to do with crazy moonstone cults, frightened ghosts, and lusty Icelanders, but the moral part of my brain pointed out that it wasn't really mine to throw away, and the least I could do was try to find its rightful owner. It was entirely within reason that whoever it belonged to could help Karl and Marta.

“Maybe the bookseller will know,” I murmured as I reclaimed the bookmark from the top of the trash, but as I did so, a cold chill ran down my back.

The top book was, as I had told the Frenchwoman who had plowed into me earlier, a mystery, but beneath it lay the Regency romance I'd snatched up. I hadn't really looked at the cover, since I had a love of Regencies, but I saw now that the two people gracing the cover were depicted dancing. “Dancers on the cover . . . oh, no. Now what am I going to do?”

I grabbed the book and stuffed it into my bag, wondering if there was any chance I'd find the woman in the holiday crowd.

“What a mess,” I murmured, and with a hand pressed to my side, I limped my way down the street toward the waterfront. Perhaps I would get a glimpse of the woman if she was still looking for bookstores.

I had just made it across the park when Mattias popped up out of nowhere. He didn't see me, but I knew that, exposed as I was, he soon would. I had to get away, but he was in a position that allowed him to look down the three streets that met at the park. I whirled around, scanning for anywhere I could hide, my gaze sharpening on a dark curve at the far edge of the park, where it butted up against a cliff. People were still streaming out of the park, but couples were using the darkness along the tree-lined end to engage in a little romantic snogging.

I hunched over and tried to use people to shield me as I made my way to the trees, intending to hide behind one of them until Mattias left. But as I glanced over my shoulder toward him, he was looking in my direction; he started forward hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure he had seen me.

“Dammit,” I muttered, excusing myself when the couple nearest me broke off what was surely a marathon lip-lock session to glare at my interruption. “Sorry. Go on with what you were doing.”

The woman snorted and, grabbing her partner by the hand, dragged him off. Just beyond them, Mattias was heading straight in my direction.

Another couple left the security of the shadows, giggling and laughing about something as they passed. A shadow separated from the wall behind them, a male shadow who appeared to be alone.

“Pia?” I heard Mattias call as he approached.

“This is so cliché I can't believe it, but desperate times and all that,” I muttered to myself as I gathered up my mental strength and stopped the man who was walking past me. “I sure hope you speak English, and I really hope you don't take this the wrong way, but here goes.”

At my touch, the man stopped, turning toward me, his face deep in shadow. Eyes the shade of blue known as teal, like a Siamese cat's, seemed to glow at me. I prayed I wasn't about to get tossed in jail for assault, grabbed his other arm, and more or less flung myself on him, chickening out at the last second and kissing the very edge of his cheek where it met the corner of his mouth.

“Please don't yell or anything like that,” I murmured against his skin, my lips tingling at the sensation of soft stubble.

“Yar!” a man said next to my ear.

I jumped and stared with shock at the face that appeared just behind the man. Like Karl and Marta, he was nearly translucent.

“I likes a bit o' the cash, meself, but ye're missin' the dock there, lass,” the ghost said. “Yer aim's off.”

The victim of my pathetic but desperate plan stiffened in my arms but didn't shove me away or yell or even try to kiss me back (more's the pity—I've always been a sucker for blue eyes). He did, however, look a bit taken aback at what was surely an expression of utter and complete befuddlement visible on my face.

Mattias loomed up in my view, but he couldn't reach me, blocked as he was by the people between us. “Pia?”

I slunk down a few inches lower, shifting my grip on the man I held so that my fingers clutched soft, curly hair. I threw in a rapturous moan as I kept my lips glued to his cheek, my attention moving from him, to Mattias, to the ghost who continued to leer at me.

Mattias peered at us for a moment, then gave a little shake of his head and moved off. At that moment, hands that felt like they were made of steel grabbed my wrists and pushed me backward.

“I appreciate the offer, but I am not interested,” the man said, his voice deep and lyrical, with an Italian accent that seemed to skitter over my skin like electricity.

“I am,” the ghost said, winking. “You can snog me any day.”

“Um,” I said, not sure how to respond to a lecherous ghost. “Are you a sailor, by any chance?”

“No,” the blue-eyed man said, frowning.

“I'm sorry. I wasn't asking you; I was asking him,” I said, nodding toward the ghost.

The man looked behind him, then narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you drunk?”

“Not in the least, although I'm really wishing I was at this point. You don't see him?”

“See who?” he asked.

“The ghost. I think he's a sailor from a ship that went down in 1922.”

“The Rebecca,”
the ghost said, nodding. “Went down in a bank o' fog the likes o' which I'd ne'er seen afore, and hope to ne'er again.”

“There is no one there,” Blue Eyes said slowly.

“You're bein' the reaper, then?” the sailor asked. He was a short man, somewhat squat, with a face that looked like it had been in more than one bar fight.

“I'm sorry, but I'm not. I just have this,” I told the ghost, holding up my wrist to show him the moonstone, which had once again changed into a tiny crescent moon lantern. “But if you go to the café on the square, you'll find a couple of other people who were on the ship, and who are waiting for the person in question.”

“What are you talking about?” asked the man.

“Café, you say?” the ghost said, looking hopeful. “Ye be thinkin' they'll have a tot o' rum there?”

“They might. You never know.”

“Aye, that ye don't. I'll be on me way, then.” He gave me a gap-toothed grin. “Ye might want to be practicin' yer aim while I'm gone. Looks like yer fella doesn't appreciate ye kissin' naught but his cheek.”

I said nothing, not wanting the man whom I'd jumped on to think I was any crazier than he already did. Obviously the moonstone/lantern contained some sort of magic that allowed only its bearer to see ghosts.

“I'm so sorry; you must think I'm the worst sort of woman,” I told Blue Eyes. “But there was a man chasing me, and I really didn't want him to find me.”

He had continued to hold my wrist bearing the moonstone. While it was a lantern, he didn't glance at it, but the second the ghost left, it reverted to the stone, and he clutched my hand even tighter.

To my surprise, rather than release me, he took a few steps into a bluish white pool of light cast by a portable lantern. I gawked when the light revealed him to be one of the two eye-candy twins, the one with short hair. The light hit him only on one side, but the planes of his face were hard and angled, a cleft cutting deep into his chin, his nose narrow, but not straight, as if it had been broken and not set properly. And then there were those lovely eyes, shining from within, beautiful pure teal blue with little spiky black bits that seemed to seep from his pupils. Oh, yes, they were gorgeous eyes . . . and they were focused on me with a look that had my color rising.

“I know it sounds crazy,” I stammered, “but it's true. There really was someone behind you, only you couldn't see him and I could. I think it's because of the moonstone, but that's really neither here nor there. But I've bothered you enough for one night, and clearly you feel the need to go get checked for scabies or something. I mean, I would if some strange guy suddenly swooped down and started kissing me. Not that I have scabies, you understand. I'm perfectly scabies free. In fact, I'm not quite sure what scabies is, although I know if you're not careful you can get it from sexual partners. Oh, lord. I'm babbling. I'm sorry. I do that when I'm nervous, or embarrassed, and wow, am I embarrassed now.”

The man stared at me like I had just turned into a tap-dancing llama, complete with top hat and cane.

“Sorry,” I said again, making a little gesture of vague apology.

His eyes narrowed as he looked again at my hand.

“I'll just go now,” I finished lamely, jerking my hand from his and scurrying away toward the street, my face hot with embarrassment. “What on earth is wrong with you, Pia? You babbled at that poor man, positively babbled like a deranged person. Dear god, I can't take you anywhere, can I?”

A sleek red car purred up to the curb.

“I bet I'm even redder,” I muttered to myself as I hurried by the car. “I should just go home. I can't get any lower than thieeeeeeeeee!”

Before I could pass by completely, one of the doors opened and I was shoved from behind. I grabbed at the roof to keep from falling into it, but another shove at my back more or less folded me in half, resulting in me collapsing inside the vehicle.

“Hey!” I yelled as I was tossed halfway across a leather seat, landing partly on it and partly on the floor. The door slammed behind me, and the car started off. “Hey!” I yelled even louder, clawing myself into an upright position. “What the hell is going on here?”